


Until I Feel Something

by HardKinkandDeanWhump



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Body Modification, Bottom Dean Winchester, Butt Plugs, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castration, Cock Cages, Cockslut Dean, Coming Untouched, Conditioning, Consensual Kink, Dehumanization, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Fucking Machines, Heavy BDSM, I swear Dean wants all of this, Isolation, Loss of Bodily Autonomy, M/M, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Restraints, Sensory Deprivation, Sexual Training, Total Power Exchange, Touch-Starved Dean Winchester, Trust Kink, fucktoy Dean, he just shows it in a very strange way, impossibly huge plugs and dildos, sensory play, this is very fucked up but very consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardKinkandDeanWhump/pseuds/HardKinkandDeanWhump
Summary: It had been many months since the man, Castiel had been his name, had led him down into the small room and asked him one last time if he was sure.When Dean woke up he was no longer strapped in place in front of the fuck machine, but instead stretched out flat on his back on the bed. For a moment he just laid there missing the movement but thankful that his ass was still plugged and locked full. He never wanted to be empty again. As he sat up, the plug shifted slightly and he inhaled sharply, closing his eyes and humming to himself in appreciation. This was a new plug, longer and wider, and as he clenched down on it he relished the sensation. Fullness was the gift Castiel was giving him. The single-minded focus on being stretched and filled and fucked, the knowledge -- the certainty, the conviction -- that these were the only sensations he was meant to feel. Castiel was conditioning Dean into what he was truly meant to be: a warm, wet, perfect, beautiful hole.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 20
Kudos: 296





	Until I Feel Something

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of my kinks are things that show up in mpreg or hard slavery/non-con or heavy sadism (read: Hell and Alistair are usually involved), and none of those are really my thing. So, this is my attempt at writing every fucked up thing I want to read, with a 100% willing participant. Why would someone want this? I don’t know! But rest assured, Dean absolutely does and Cas absolutely loves him.
> 
> Also, I made this account to secretly write Dean whump and then this sprang forth from my head fully formed like a very messed up Athena so um, I guess this account is also for weird porn now. Enjoy?
> 
> Heed the tags, etc etc. Not beta’d because why on earth would I show this to anyone I know??

It had been many months since the man, Castiel had been his name, had led him down into the small room and asked him one last time if he was sure. Castiel would only give his gift to those who wanted it. Dean methodically removed his clothes and stood naked before the man, a silent gesture that was so much louder than any Yes he could speak with words. As Castiel turned to leave, Dean reached out, a question on his lips. Castiel evaded Dean's outstretched hand, a subtle but definite action.

"I do not touch things that are imperfect, but when I've made you perfect I'll give you all the touch you need. I'll be the only one who can truly understand what you need."

"What should I…?" Dean asked.

"Nothing. I will do _for_ you. Just be patient; this will be a slow process." Castiel looked up and down Dean's nude body. He seemed appreciative of what was already there, but Dean could see restrained anticipation smouldered behind those blue eyes. "You're going to be so beautiful. Thank you for letting me give you this." 

And with that, Castiel left, closing and latching the door behind him.

Dean looked around the small, narrow room. There wasn’t much width for anything other than the shelf bed that ran along one wall, though the space was long enough for something fairly large to be set up at the end of the bed. A drain was set into one corner of the floor, a vent opposite it in a corner up near the ceiling. The toilet was conspicuously absent. Dean sat on the bed, noting how comfortable the mattress was despite its cot-like appearance. As he laid down, he realized the mattress was so comfortable it was like he could no longer feel his weight pressing down on it or its firmness pressing up into him. He floated there for a while, he had no idea how long, the ambient, directionless light dim enough to comfortably doze through. Even without a blanket he wasn't cold, the air in the room at just the same temperature as his body.

He must have fallen deeply asleep, for when he awoke he was aware of something on his groin, sort of a gentle tug and squeeze at the same time. When he looked down at himself he saw that a metal cage had been placed on his cock. It wasn't a particularly elaborate or restrictive cage, but was enough to communicate its message to Dean: Don't touch. The thought of Castiel's hands on him, guiding his length into the tube, pressing his balls, one by one, through the locking rings, had Dean trying to harden despite the confines of the cage, but he willed himself to soften. None of this felt like a test, but Dean was still determined to be good for the man who would be giving him so much. 

The day went on and nothing happened. There were no sounds to hear, no words of demand or praise from Castiel spoken through a crackling loudspeaker. There was nothing new to see or do, the lights never brightened or dimmed beyond their original level. Eventually, a tray of something bland and textureless, cream of wheat perhaps, appeared through a small slot. Dean ate the food and drank from the pitcher of water that sat on a small shelf set into the wall, then went back to sitting on the cot, a thrum of excitement running through him. He could have felt bored or anxious or imprisoned, but he didn’t. He trusted somehow that Castiel wouldn’t hurt him, would only give him what he needs, would make him beautiful. 

The next day, nothing was different, nor the day after that. The same bland food came, there was always water, there was never sound or scent or differing light. Dean sat quietly when he wasn’t eating or drinking or pissing in the drain in the corner. He didn’t know why he stayed quiet, but it felt right. He’d cleared his throat once when a gulp of water went down wrong, and the sound had seemed too loud, almost offensive. 

At the end of the first week -- what he suspected was a week, it was impossible to really gauge the passage of time here -- Dean realized that he’d only ever had to piss, and that he didn’t smell or feel dirty despite not having showered. His stubble hadn’t even grown in. When he woke the next day with a tighter, smaller cock cage, he understood that Castiel was waiting until he slept and coming to tend to him only then, doing something to keep him asleep. 

Another week passed, and with it came another, more restrictive cock cage.

A week later, a catheter was snaked up Dean’s cock, the tube long enough to never restrict Dean’s movement, the other end clipped to something next to the drain in the floor.

The week after that and Dean woke wearing his first plug. It felt small inside him, and Dean only allowed himself the barest of touches along the base before pulling his hand away. It felt wrong to touch, after all these weeks of still and quiet and intentional deprivation. Because that’s what Castiel was doing. The flavorless food, the dim unchanging light, the perfect temperature that had made Dean’s skin reach out at first for _something_ until it had learned that _nothing_ would be there, the silence, the bed that felt like nothing, the body made to never feel like it needed to piss or shit. So even this plug that wasn’t even all that much, felt like a lot because it was something Dean could feel. It was something Castiel was giving Dean to feel.

A week later, the plug was larger. Dean spent the next week clenching himself against it, squeeze and release, squeeze and release. It felt good.

The next week, there was an even larger plug and food no longer came; as bland and unsatisfying as it had been, Dean missed it at first. He knew he wasn't being starved -- in fact he never felt hungry -- so he assumed feeding had been added to the list of things that happened in the dark. As time went on, Dean realized that taste was not for him any longer, nor was hunger. More senses removed, Dean felt he was being purified.

Time went on, and the plugs were replaced occasionally, swapped out for larger or longer ones, changed up for dildos that Dean could feel deep inside him. Castiel stopped working on his weekly schedule, or Dean’s sense of time got so fucked that he had no idea what a week was anymore. Either way, Dean spent his days caged and plugged and had nothing to do but focus on the sensation of the toy in his ass.

Eventually, finally, what felt like months later, Dean woke up to find himself strapped and hanging in a harness. He was on all fours on the end of the mattress, but the leather harness took most of his weight. The dildo that had been filling his ass was still there, but once it was clear Dean was fully awake it began moving. In and out, in and out. The strange space that had been at the end of the bed was now filled with a fucking machine that was slowly pumping the dildo in and out of Dean.

It felt good. Dean wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d fucked or been fucked, but fuck he was excited to cum. His cock was still caged, but he knew he could figure something out. Castiel was teaching him these lessons for a reason, taking away so that when something was given back Dean would be able to make himself beautiful with it.

The machine sped up, ever so slowly, but Dean still couldn’t cum. He needed to touch his cock, god he needed to touch his cock so bad, he imagined himself grabbing it, stroking it, squeezing down on it so hard it hurt and then shooting ropes of cum out of his swollen, neglected balls. But it wasn’t enough. The machine went and went and went for what felt like days. Dean was miserable. He hated it, but he wanted it. He hated _this_ , but he knew that whatever was on the other side would be beautiful and that Castiel would give it to him. Castiel… Dean imagined Castiel’s plush lips wrapped around his cock, cheeks hollowed, tongue pressing insistently just below the head then licking, licking, licking into his slit. The slit that Castiel had gently, lovingly guided a catheter into so Dean wouldn’t have to feel the need to piss anymore, so he could focus on what he _should_ feel, on the plug in his ass, the dildo punching in and out of him...

Dean felt guilty, dirty. He shouldn’t be thinking about Castiel like that. He focused on the dildo being fucked into him, but it was too small, his cock was straining in its tight cage, it wasn’t enough.

It went on for days. Dean was hungry, he couldn’t sleep while being fucked like this, and he couldn’t cum. Finally the machine showed some mercy and came to a halt after shoving the rubber cock deep inside Dean one last time. He slept, and when he woke he was rested and no longer hungry, so he knew Castiel had come to tend to him, but he was still strapped in the harness. Castiel, in his loving mercy, was giving Dean another chance.

For a day everything was still, and then the next the machine started up again, gave Dean the chance to become beautiful again. Dean wanted this. He focused entirely on the sensation of the cock plunging in and out of his ass, slowly at first and then faster and faster as time went on. He could do this, he could cum for Castiel. 

\------------------------

The machine had been pumping into him, edging him relentlessly for what must have been days now. He hurt. Nothing was torn but everything was sore, so sore and swollen and _used_. He thought about what Castiel had promised him all those months ago, that he didn’t touch what wasn’t perfect but would give everything to what was. Castiel was trying to give everything to Dean, wanted to give everything to Dean. And all Dean had to do right now, to get himself just a little closer to Castiel’s touch, was cum for him. Just cum Dean, just cum, just cum, just cum… Dean thought about Castiel, not doing something obscene like sucking his cock, but stroking his skin, touching his hair, gently pressing the next plug into Dean’s swollen, waiting ass. Oh god oh fuck…

Before this, before he'd given himself to Castiel to be made into something else, this would have been a ruined orgasm, unsatisfying because the cock shoving inside him was too small and his own dick hadn't been involved, hadn't even been able to get hard. Now, though, after these _ages_ of deprivation, it was glorious. Dean's entire body sang with the sensation, back arched as the warmth pulsed through him from deep inside his ass, through his belly, up his straining back, through his shoulders and down into his fingertips. As the dildo continued to pump into him, slowly now, he never wanted it to stop, Dean closed his eyes and began to drift into sleep. His last thought was the knowledge that he was getting closer to perfection for Castiel.

When Dean woke up he was no longer strapped in place in front of the machine, but instead stretched out flat on his back on the bed. For a moment he just laid there missing the movement but thankful that his ass was still plugged and locked full. He never wanted to be empty again. As he sat up, the plug shifted slightly and he inhaled sharply, closing his eyes and humming to himself in appreciation. This was a new plug, longer and wider, and as he clenched down on it he relished the sensation. Fullness was the gift Castiel was giving him. The single-minded focus on being stretched and filled and fucked, the knowledge -- the certainty, the _conviction_ \-- that these were the only sensations he was meant to feel. Castiel was conditioning Dean into what he was truly meant to be: a warm, wet, perfect, beautiful hole.

The day was spent in rest. Maybe it was a week, Dean didn’t know anymore. His ass ached from the days and days of use and he drifted in the feeling. He could have wept for how good it felt to ache like that, and how good it made him feel to know he was becoming what Castiel had seen he could be. Castiel had told him the process would be slow and gradual, but finally after all these months Dean knew he'd turned a corner, that he'd been changed irrevocably. He had so much further he wanted to go, but he knew that even if he stopped now he could never go back to being who he was.

The next day Dean woke to find himself strapped back in the harness. Dean sighed with relief, and the moment the sound passed over his lips, the machine started fucking into him slowly. It was a larger dildo this time, maybe three inches across and twelve long, unsurprising given the larger plug Dean had been given the day before, and it pressed completely into him before pulling almost entirely out, and then in and then out, in and out, focusing Dean's entire attention on the tunnel of nerves and flesh inside him. Ridges and bumps along the dildo massaged Dean's rim and he followed the sensation of them as they moved leisurely along the inside of his body. It was a gentle touch now, but he knew it would soon become something more.

Unlike his first session on the machine, Dean didn't whimper with need as the hours passed. He still felt it, still needed to cum, but it wasn't desperate this time. A lot still needed to be trained out of him, but the first lesson had been learned: Be patient. By the end of the day the machine had nearly reached half speed and Dean was beginning to understand what the second lesson was to be: Embrace discomfort. The texture of the dildo fucking into him had become too much at this speed, like he knew it would, and he was overstimulated and numb. The bumps rubbed against his prostate, not enough to let him cum, but enough to give him some pleasure to focus on. The delicious stretching sensation had long ago worn away as his body adjusted and he yearned for more, but lesson number one was patience and he knew he'd be opened wider in future sessions. So for now, he focused on the steady but weak press against his prostate and attempted to sleep. The first session he hadn't slept any because he'd been too focused on chasing his orgasm, but this time he was able to doze off. When he woke he could tell he'd slept enough to have been fed but the machine hadn't picked up any speed. The second day was much like the first, and by the end of it the machine was fucking into Dean at full speed. At this point Dean was sweaty and exhausted and really having to work to control his desperation. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep and wondered how long he'd be able to last like this, unable to sleep and unable to cum, strapped to a machine that wouldn't stop pounding into him until he did.

In the back of his mind, a part he was immediately ashamed of for not being focused on his training, he wondered how long the machine could keep going, and if it too was frustrated with Dean's inability to appreciate the sensation he was being given and just cum already. The moment that thought crossed his mind, he felt something slip loose and fall away deep in his soul. He needed to cum for the machine. The machine was waiting on _him_ and he had no right to make it wait any longer. The machine, the dildo that had been pounding into him with care and attention, fucking and fucking and fucking and _waiting_ for Dean to cum, giving Dean exactly what he was supposed to have, _it_ wasn’t the toy. It wasn’t the tool. _Dean_ was.

Thinking he was just a tool, _knowing it_ , Dean’s orgasm rolled through him like a tidal wave. It was too much, it was just enough. Like his first session, it originated in his ass, deep down where the dildo was furiously fucking into him. His cock didn’t even try to get hard in its little cage. This fact, that Dean was a hole to be fucked, to cum only from being fucked, a hole that didn’t need its dick and balls, wouldn’t ever use them again, didn’t want them, was enough to almost make him cum a second time. Unlike the first session, that had been good only because of Dean’s desperation, this was the most intense orgasm of Dean’s life. The first one had been magnified by the relief that had accompanied it, but this one was just _good_. It was fucking great. It was everything.

The machine fucked him through it, punching broken moans out of Dean with each rapidfire thrust, the first time since Castiel had put him in this holy box that he’d used his voice. He didn’t want to speak, to make sound, to give himself sensation that wasn’t given to him, but this was a prayer. A benediction to the man who was rebuilding Dean into something more.

Eventually he passed out, and as with the first session, when he awoke Dean was laying unfettered on the bed. And again, the plug locked inside him was larger this time, significantly so; Dean flushed with arousal, the stretch of his insides so exquisite, his rim fluttering weakly against the thick silicone holding it forever open. After a while he moved to sit up, reaching for the pitcher of water. As he did so, Dean felt something rough scrape against the skin of his inner thigh. The sensation was unpleasant and startled him more than it would have before he’d started this, but as soon as he looked down at himself he gasped. A new kind of cage, one that didn't need to loop behind a ball sac, was locked firmly in place over his cock, and a square of clean, white gauze was taped in place below it. His balls were gone. Dean laid back, closing his eyes and sighing in relief, in thanks. This was a gift. This was a reward. His wordless prayers had been heard.

Because he had to heal, instead of going back onto the fuck machine the next day, Dean was fitted with a longer plug. The day after that, a wider one, and the day after longer. For two weeks, Dean was sized up each and every day until on the fourteenth he wasn’t sure he could be made any fuller. Whatever was inside him was long and wide and _heavy_ , made of something soft that moved with him so there wasn’t any sharp poking pain when he shifted around, just an inescapable fullness. His belly distended out, hiding his caged cock and the pink line where his balls had been. Dean didn’t touch himself any more -- of course not his cock, but also not the rest of him, because touching his skin didn’t give him what he needed, what he was supposed to have. But he couldn’t help running a hand across his swollen midsection, pressing down gently and relishing the knowledge that his hole -- that _he_ was so stretched out. So big. He had no idea how long he’d been in here, didn’t really care as long as the time was making him more perfect, but when he thought about it now he had to guess that it been almost a year since his ass was last closed and tight. Castiel had said this would be a slow process, but now that Dean felt that he was nearing the end, he was glad for it. Slow, and permanent. There was no going back.

The next day, Dean was finally on the machine again. Nothing felt different inside him, and he realized that whatever wonderful thing had been inside him yesterday was still inside him now. As the machine slid it slowly out of him, he whimpered for the loss but also focused intently on the feel of it passing out through him. It was hard to gauge size, and he never looked behind him -- if Dean was supposed to see, he would be shown -- but it felt like it had to be seven or eight inches across at the base, slowly tapering off as the machine pulled half of its incredible length out of him before stuffing it all back inside. Dean was so glad the machine couldn’t pull it all out, that he wouldn’t be left empty even for a moment, and that’s when he realized he would never be empty again. He was so close to being perfect for Castiel, so close.

Dean quietly chanted “So close” to himself until he came hard at the end of the first day.

The machine continued on while Dean slept, and he felt warm and happy as he woke to it pounding into his slack, open ass. He came this time in just hours, and then again at the end of the day. He thought he was getting closer.

The third day, Dean thought about nothing at all. He wasn’t a person anymore, just a warm hollow thing being fucked and filled and made whole. He came five times that day. The machine didn’t stop.

When he woke he wasn’t on the machine anymore, but the thing that was too wide to be a dildo and too long to be a plug that had been filling him was still nestled inside where it belonged. Even though he’d been fucked by it for days, Dean still felt a little stretch down at his rim. “I hope I can take more,” he thought.

As he lay enjoying his fullness, Dean slowly became aware of a slight rustling sound. It was quiet, but other than the sounds of him being fucked, the room where he was kept had been completely silent since he first set foot in it. When he looked over, Castiel was standing silently against the wall, staring at Dean.

“You were so beautiful yesterday, being what you truly are.”

Dean said nothing, just looked in awe at the man who had so lovingly spread him open and filled him up.

“No one else has ever accepted as much of my gift as you. You know this door was never locked?”

Dean shook his head. He hadn’t known, but he’d also never wanted to leave.

“You’re so close. Do you want the rest?”

Dean nodded.

“You don’t know what it is. Do you want to know?”

Dean shook his head no.

“You don’t need to know, and yet you know you want it. You’re such a perfect, beautiful hole. You’re going to be fucked and filled forever, my love.” 

\--------------------------

When Dean woke this time, he was in a different room. This one looked to be in a home; maybe it was part of the upstairs, it had been so long since Dean had walked, closed and empty, down the stairs with Castiel that day. Yes, maybe this was a bedroom. Maybe it was Castiel’s bedroom! The light was still dim and the room was still quiet, but there was more here that would have caught Dean’s attention before, would have distracted him from his purpose. But not now. Now, as had been the case for the last several months, Dean’s first -- and usually only -- thoughts were if he was full enough and whether he was being fucked .

This time, though, he allowed his awareness the briefest of sojourns back into what had once been himself but was now just extra, unneeded flesh. He was mounted to a fuck machine just as he had come to need, but this time the harness was made of bars of solid metal, draped here and there with cloth and padding to keep Dean comfortable in his permanent enclosure. The second thing he noticed was that the plug inside him was even larger and longer and heavier than the one he’d thought had been the biggest he could take. He shivered at the thought of being a living toy for Castiel, held in place and stuffed impossibly more full, and when he felt that his ass was completely unable to clench anymore, that Castiel had finally opened him up forever, Dean came. Not even being fucked, just being stretched out and filled so fucking full. And it was that orgasm that made him realize the third thing: his cock was gone. Castiel had understood. Dean was complete. 

Dean shuddered and moaned out his _thank you thank you thank you_ and suddenly Castiel was there, petting his hair and stroking his face and giving Dean the touch that only _he_ had ever earned.

“You’re perfect now, so perfect. I’m going to give you everything.”

The machine started fucking into Dean and it never stopped.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes the title is a quote from the Tool song “Stinkfist” which definitely maybe had me crossing my legs when I listened to the lyrics (which are, on a literal level at least, about deep anal fisting) when I was a little baby 8th grader. Thx for the awkward awakening while sitting in my friend’s older brother’s Honda Civic, guys…
> 
> If you liked this and are brave, kudos and/or comments are always appreciated! If you like this (what up, my fellow weirdos) and want me to write more, let me know. If you want me to bury myself in shame and go back to only publishing on my fluffy account where everything is rated Teen for language and I feel weird even making the boys kiss, also let me know that too.


End file.
